Slumrat Rising

Chapter 142: No Prodigal Son

Chapter 142: No Prodigal Son

Truth smirked vindictively as he walked to Merkovah’s office. He had a fair idea of what would happen when that picture was published, and he really looked forward to the headache it would cause the “Hooray for heroes!” crowd.

“You look cheerful. I’m suddenly worried. AH! Where is your sword?!”

Truth’s smile got a lot warmer as he stretched out his hand. The Tongue of One Who Speaks For God appeared, as beautiful as ever.

“God be praised. It accepted you fully. I was afraid it might not.” Merkovah breathed out, almost whispering. He looked a little torn.

“She just needed a good opportunity. I was too weak before, and she needed the extra power from the array to join me.”

“Yes, the last wielder was level seven. A truly wonderful woman. Pious, and wise, and funny, and furiously unwilling to retreat.”

“She sounds like a great person.”

“She truly was. The last prophet of Siphios, God rest her.”

Truth nodded.

“Killed by Starbrite. And the idiocy of people who should have known better than to put her in harm's way, but really, Starbrite.”

Truth nodded again, more slowly this time.

“I find it hard not to hate the Deathsworn. It’s because you enslaved yourselves willingly. Every one of you a volunteer. You might not have known exactly what you were volunteering for, but... Volunteers. And you have killed so many people I have loved. So many of my students. My family.”

Truth had nothing to say to that. It was true, after all.

“Talking with you, teaching you, has been one of the strangest experiences in my long life. I now have a better appreciation for what the Deathsworn are- your “PMC.” You are spirits taught to suffer so that you might make others suffer.”

Truth didn’t quite see it that way, but figured there was nothing good to add, so kept quiet.

“Nothing to say, Mr. Medici?

Damn.

“I’m not in the PMC anymore. I died on the job.”

“Are you furious about that fact?”

“Well, I’m pretty damn mad about the betrayal, but “furious” is a strong word. I did get paid, after all, and the death benefits are very generous.”

Truth flexed his will, and the sword returned to his first spell aperture. It felt… right, in there. Like it complemented the Meditations.

“No ‘Sorry for your loss?’ or perhaps, ‘That’s why we have to kill Starbrite?’”

“Is that what I should say? I thought that was strictly for comforting the heroine by the grave of her late husband.”

Merkovah searched Truth’s face and came to a terrifying realization. “You are serious. You genuinely have no idea how to comfort the grieving or even pretend to be sorry for your previous actions.”

“Only as a tactic to avoid being beaten by my parents. Other than that? Never came up, so I never learned.”

“Not on the SAT, I suppose.”

“Exactly. Or bodyguard training.”

“I would have assumed soothing the client was a big piece of that.”

“It was, but these are rich weirdos. Sincerity is not a major factor in their life, and they all love yelling, “I DON’T PAY YOU FOR EXCUSES! I PAY YOU FOR RESULTS!” I think they have some kind of manual they all follow.”

“So you never bothered to learn.”

“Yep.”

Merkovah started rubbing his temples. “How odd. I keep feeling more and more empathy for people in your “PMC.”

“Some of ‘em were pretty ok, actually. Not the protectees. They were all scum. Well, the succubus was ok.”

“You guarded a succubus.”

“Yes. We got takeout and watched a movie.” Truth grinned. “On that basis, I am qualified to open a school of demonology in Siphios. At least in Moyle.”

“I’m not sure the country is ready for a demonology school taught by a heretic.” Merkovah looked on the verge of laughter and tears. “You understand what’s about to happen, right? You are going to be dropped into Jeon with nothing but what you can carry. No contraband, no secret artifacts except for the Tongue. Just a head full of spells and a list of objectives.”

“And the benefit of several National Treasures.”

“Yes, you should be almost impossible to find, a thought that would be much more reassuring if I didn’t know that Starbrite has been perfecting its anti-infiltration systems for centuries. You will be operating functionally alone, launching a campaign of sabotage and, yes, you little prick, terror across an already tense, desperate nation. And you have all the motivation of a retail clerk starting their eighth shift in a week. The fire of a shallow pond. The furious need for vengeance of someone who got less than the expected portion of potatoes in their lunchtime stew.”

Truth shrugged. “They have my family, and the only chance for any of us to live through this is recovering that girl and getting on the ships out of here. Anything else, and we need to prepare for the apocalypse.” Truth let the bland ease fall away. Dropped the laconic face he had presented since his rebirth.

Underneath was the man who understood what the words “Whatever it takes,” truly meant, and truly cost. Healed enough, now, to appreciate how damaged he had been. Still ruthless enough to stick his hand right back in the fire. Starbrite had been his God. Etenesh thought he didn’t understand a world where God despised you. Not true. He knew about it before he fell down the well.

“You know, I say I got paid, but it did occur to me that “credits” is another word for ‘we aren’t actually paying you.’ And you know how I feel about that.”

Merkovah slowly nodded. “We are running you through a six-week intensive course on being a massive pain in the ass. We are condensing it into one week on the basis that you can directly skip the combat and weapons training, already have some talisman formation skills, and there is obviously no need to do more than catch you up on the local language and culture.”

“Makes sense.”

“By the time you get on the bird, I should have some information on your siblings. As you might imagine, things are a little tense in Jeon right now, but that also means the smaller things slip more easily through the cracks.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Part of your fee.” Merkovah couldn’t bring himself to smile. Truth just nodded.

“Your goal is to weaken the System Astrologica to the point where I, and forces you do not need to know about, can launch the killing blow against it. Your goal is also to try and locate the missing Shattervoid child. You will be provided multiple redundant dead drops to use to communicate that discovery and coordinate with me.”

“Okay.”

Merkovah twitched. “I’m starting to get a complex about that word.”

“I hear there’s a lot of that going around.”

“We can no longer plausibly insert you as a tourist. You will be dropped off on the coast and will have to infiltrate in. We will provide you with an initial identity, but you will have to secure something that will hold up better on your own.”

Truth nodded. He wasn’t going to use any identity they provided him. His faith in others was limited as it was.

“Anything else you want to ask?”

“Can I take the Iron Horse with me?”

“No. As a special favor, I will have Etenesh store it for you. Should you successfully complete your mission and elect to stay on this planet, you will find it in the attached garage for the small, but very modern, home that will be waiting for you.”

“Good. Can’t be bothered to clean or upkeep a big house.”

“Somehow I knew you would say that. Did you spend any of the money I paid you?”

“I did. I took Etenesh out a couple of times, got some supplies for the two-wheeler, and raided some thrift shops for novels. Oh, I also got some grilled skewers with Jember. Yeah, they were crazy pricy. Like, seven birr for two.”

“What? What sort of dam skewers costs- no, no, I’m not doing that again. I’m shipping you off at once and then returning to the normal level of insanity.”

“Not quite at once.”

“Oh?”

“I want to see Etenesh before I go.”

“Truth… in all sincerity, that’s not necessarily in either of your best interests.”

“How so?”

“She is dangerously obsessed with you. I hadn’t appreciated just how devastated she was by learning the truth of God’s indifference. She doesn’t worship you, exactly, but she sees herself as becoming your wife or consort or queen when you assume your godhood and rule over this world. And naturally, she understands that you are a long way from that, so she is looking to… pave your way while making you as deliriously happy as possible. So long as you remain fixated on her romantically. She decided you would be the new object of her devotion.”

Merkovah paused. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you why this is a bad thing. Especially now that you have given her a strand of your rage and paranoia.”

Truth nodded. “What comes after opening the nine apertures?”

“Pardon?”

“I got a little feel of it up on the mountain. Something comes after the nine apertures open, some kind of transformation or rebirth. One might describe it as stepping towards godhood.”

“ONE might. I would not.” Merkovah growled. “I don’t know. Something, for sure, but I don’t know. No one on this backwater planet has made it that high, and we haven’t been able to import the information. Even the higher dimensional spirits we contract just say variations on “You’ll know when you get there.”

“Unhelpful.”

“That was when I developed the “masticating juicer” enchantment for demon punishing.”

“Nice. Never miss an opportunity to learn and improve.”

“Quite right. HOW?! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?”

“I think people get confused by my being sincerely interested in things.”

Merkovah groaned. “Knowing what I just told you, do you still want to go see Etenesh?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mr. Medici-”

“I’m likely to die, and even if I don’t, the world is likely to end, and even if it doesn’t, I will definitely need someone I can trust my life to. That ain’t you. As much as I like the guy, it isn’t Jember, either. But Etenesh will not betray me.”

Truth smiled, a hint of maddened slumrat gleaming from behind the iris. “In the Army and the PMC, they always said, “Never stick your dick in crazy.” So far, it’s been one the best things that ever happened to me.”

Truth slipped back into his amiable persona. Then his smile took on a more playful tilt. “Besides, it’s only fair that she thinks I’m a god. She’s the only person I go to my knees for. God and King will have to make do with a polite nod.

____________________________________________

It wasn’t a mental hospital, exactly. Or a temple or one of their not-monasteries. It was some combination of all of the above. Etenesh wasn’t drugged or restrained. She was merely counseled in a safe environment. One with heavy wards against spells and very tough-minded mages on staff. It was rather pretty, with a big attached garden and lots of glazing to let in the natural light.

Truth found Etenesh sitting on a bench, watching little birds dip in and out of the flowers. She looked kind of bored but also a little interested. “It occurred to me that I don’t know how to call you. “Ms. Heaven Beseeching” seems much too formal and awkward. It doesn't roll off the tongue as nicely as “Etenesh.”

Truth took care to enunciate each syllable, showing just how much he enjoyed saying her name. “Should I call you Ms. Et-en-esh?”

She smiled back. “That is the correct, formal way to address me, Mr. Me-di-ci. Though I think I like it best when I am just Etenesh.”

“Not going to lie, the way you say my name does things for me. Please, don’t stop.”

She giggled. “Knew it.”

Truth nodded. He let the silence gather a moment, then said, “My Etenesh?”

“You know I am. Too much. I didn’t consciously realize how much until very recently. I think the God Embodying exaggerated my already big crush on you to something more extreme.”

“You have gotten that far in therapy?”

“I can put words to it. Doesn't make me any less obsessed. And I am. I know it. You know it. I am. I want to put you on God’s Chariot and chain you to me so that we will never part. Turn you into that fixed point in my life that was once filled by God.”

Truth nodded. “Okay.”

Etenesh had to catch the armrest to keep from falling off the bench. “Okay? Okay?! How is that Okay? Is that something you can just ‘Okay?’”

“Yes, it is.”

“NO, Mr. Medici, it is not. It isn’t remotely okay. I know damn well it’s unhealthy.”

“Oh yeah, super unhealthy. Under other circumstances, I’d be fucking terrified and running for the hills. But things are what they are, so it’s okay.”

She gave him a look. “Alright, keep digging. How is it “Okay?”

“The end of the world is coming any day now. I am, if not clinically paranoid, functionally so. I have trust issues ranging from people to road design. I have intrusive thoughts, chronic low self-esteem, and a willingness to embrace violence that most people would find profoundly disturbing. I am going to be leaving you here for a while, while I’m off doing unwise things for unkind reasons.”

Truth faced Etenesh calmly. “And I have a bad case of First-Girlfriend-itis. It was virgin-itis, but someone cured that.”

Etenesh snorted.

“So I’m a bit obsessed myself. And knowing that my sexy, brilliant, capable girlfriend can look out for her damn self while the world goes to shit is very reassuring. Second only to knowing that my sexy, brilliant, capable girlfriend is going to stay loyal.” He held eye contact. “You aren’t the first, or only, person wanting that fixed point. And you know damn well I will be true. ”

“Do I? Know that?” She smiled. It was supposed to look playful but missed.

“Yes.”

“My pretty, pretty man, who won’t even take a blank prenup, is going to stay faithful in the home of cosmetic glamours and custom lovers, will he?”

“Yes.”

She searched his face and found only honesty. “You… really mean that. I don’t suppose you would be up for a quickie marriage before you go, would you?”

“No. Very, very tempting, but no.” He smiled at her a bit. “I will do you one better, though.” He reached into his pocket and handed Etenesh his wallet and his keys.

“There- all my money in the world and the keys to my iron horse. Machete and spear included, in case you need them. I’m taking the scarf and sword with me.”

He laughed at her bewilderment. “You didn't grow up poor. Money, and... stuff, it all matters so much more. It's what you need to feel safe. To measure the quality of your existence. I have been obsessed with earning money for most of my life. And now I'm giving all my money to you. Magic won’t tie me down, Love. But you can be certain I’d crawl back from Hell for you.”

____________________________________________

Truth was riding in the back of a cargo bird, feet up on the cargo net that was holding down the boxes and packages in the hold. Lots of very well-sealed packages, wrapped in layer after layer of plastic. It was the fourth short-haul bird he had taken after the long-haul flight from Siphios put him two countries over from Jeon. He was supposed to be met at General Visk International Airport by Comrade Sobol, who would arrange further transportation, ending on a dock in a fishing village in southeast Jeon.

Deciding that sounded like a superb way to get stabbed in the back, Truth elected to skip the meeting, found a bird headed in the right direction and walked up the loading ramp into the cargo hold. The Level One cargo handlers didn’t even notice him.

He repeated the operation a few more times, consistently making his way closer to Harban. Finding food was a bit of a bastard, but he was Level Four. He was fine. They were over the ocean now, a few hundred kilometers from shore.

Bit of turbulence. To be expected. The bird shook harder. Then it rotated forty-five degrees on it’s longest axis and shot down and to the left. Then it snapped its wings out flat and turned hard right. Then up, then left again.

Truth had a quick look around for the exit hatch. He had a bad feeling. There was a sudden, brutal jolt, a shaking, screaming, tearing of metal. Enormous claws, black and stinking, ripped apart the bird. Paper talismans exploded into fire or dissolved into corruption.

The whole side of the bird ripped away as it fell into a fast death spiral toward the sea. Truth caught a faint glimpse of a three-headed demon laughing and flying away. Not important right now. Parachute? Forget it. Jump out of the bird? In a death spiral? Forget that too. The water was coming up fast. Too fast for anything smart. Truth decided the answer was to get dumb. He jumped straight up as hard as he could, punching through the thin shell of the bird. As a result, he found himself a hundred meters above the ocean, with no land in sight, and still falling fast.

He formed himself into a tight pillar, desperately hoping that what he remembered about falling into the water was actually true. It was the surface tension that killed you. It turned hard as steel when you fell at speed. The bird smashed into the water, shattering and scattering talismans and bits of luggage over the surface of the water. Truth cast Incisive by his feet, praying that the cut would break the tension and let him land safely.

Truth, alas, was wrong about water landings. And his mission in Jeon hadn’t even begun.